Page 43 of The Fangirl and the Playboy

Nervous energy ripples just beneath my skin as I head inside, the bells over the door jingling to announce my arrival. Willow looks up from behind the counter with a smile, and that smile doesn’t waver when she sees it’s me.

Score one for me.

“Hi,” I say softly as I approach the counter.

“Hi,” she parrots back, a soft pink color rising to her cheeks. “What can I get for you? Your usual?”

“Sounds good,” I say, holding the eye contact that even she seems resistant to break.

“Hey, Jillian,” Willow says, still not breaking our locked gazes, “can you please make Mr. Reese a mocha latte with an extra shot of espresso in a to-go cup?”

A to-go cup? Is she trying to get me out of here as quickly as possible?

Before I can question or complain, though, Willow waves for me to follow as she heads to the other end of the counter. When I stop on the customer side, she jerks her head toward the door leading into the kitchen, an obvious request that I follow. I nod and quicken my pace, catching up to her as she approaches the door to her office.

Opening the door, she motions for me to precede her inside. I’m shaking a little, nervous that she brought me back here to let me down easy and in private. That she’s going to tell me that kiss was a mistake that can never happen again.

I hate this feeling.

Willow follows me inside, closing the door softly behind her. When I spin around to face her, ready to plead my case, she surprises me by tangling her fists in my shirt, spinning us around, and backing me into the door much the same way I did to her last night.

Plastering herself against me, she pushes up on her toes and seals her mouth to mine. My lips part in surprise, and she takes advantage, pushing her tongue inside.

The soft touch of her tongue against mine wakes me up, and my arms immediately cage around her, picking her up and holding her against me while I ravage her mouth. Her hands curl around my neck, gripping the column tightly as she moans into my mouth.

I push off the door and spin around, slamming her back against it. Her legs automatically curve around my waist, her ankles locking me in, andyes.

Yes to all of it.

As I kiss her again and again, my brain slowly starts to catch up to my cock, and I realize Ineedto question this. To make sure Willow means what I think she means with this whole scenario.

Breaking off the kiss abruptly, I keep her pinned where she is while I meet her liquid eyes and pant to catch my breath. She’s breathing just as hard, and her glassy eyes keep dipping back to my mouth like she’s starved for more of it.

“What does this mean, Willow?” I ask between breaths before I give into the temptation to just kiss her and let the rest go.

Her gaze jumps back up to meet mine, and a soft smile curves the corners of her mouth. “It means I want to try again. To see where this goes.”

I exhale harshly, and a weight the size of Texas lifts from my shoulders. Willow moans as I dive back in for another long kiss. My hands itch to get rid of all these clothes so I can really touch her, but I manage to rein in the desire.

I want to do this right.

Slowing the kiss, I end it with several soft pecks before leaning back to meet her eyes again.

“Go to dinner with me tonight,” I say, the words dripping with hope.

“Like a date?” she asks, her eyes sparkling.

“There’s no ‘like’ about it,” I say, dipping my head to press a kiss to her neck before pulling back. “It’s a real date. Our first, if you think about it.”

“What about the drive-in?” she asks with a smirk, and I can’t fully explain how happy I am that she remembers.

“Doesn’t count. We were hiding. I want the whole world to know you’re with me.”

“Okay,” she says. “It’s a date.”

I lean in and nibble her lips a few times, then straighten as her legs unlock and slide to the floor. Taking a step back, I watch as she smooths her apron, then her hair. Then she takes a deep breath and nods like everything is in order.

“Pick you up at seven?” I ask, and she nods.

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